The Mexican Day of the Dead

I like the purpose of the Mexican Day of the Dead
to honor and respect those no longer living.
I like the reverence for those who have passed on.
Perhaps on that special day for the dead
a connection is made with those who have died.
Maybe those beyond this world can feel their
loved ones still on earth remembering them.
Maybe those beyond this world can help their loved ones still on earth.
I like the idea of that if it is at all possible.
I do know people who have died can appear in dreams
to those who are among the living.
But regardless of whether or not the dead can help the living,
I like the setting aside of a special day to honor, respect and remember them.

Bob Boyd

I Probably Should Have Been with a Hippie Woman

Had I been with a hippie woman, we probably would have had more in common than the other women I’d been with in my life.

None of the other women ever understood the seeker I was and the spiritual revolution that was unfolding inside of me or appreciated my depth.

I believe a hippie woman would have appreciated and understood my spirituality and talked about deeper things with me occasionally.

I would have loved her free spiritedness and her unique fashion sense.

But I was never with a hippie woman.

Closest I came was when I met one who was spaced out on drugs and I was high on alcohol a few years before the k awakened in me and delivered me forever from wasted nights and alcoholic highs.

I protected the hippie woman from a friend who wanted to sexually take advantage of her in her spaced out state.

And me and the hippie woman, who was quite attractive, seemed to have a sweet sympatico.

I made a date with her to met her in a park the next day, like the song I Love the Flower Girl about a guy who sees a hippie girl in a park and becomes enamored with her.

But she never showed up.

Maybe she was so spaced out when I asked her out that she didn’t remember about the date.

In retrospect, she probably did me a favor.

Even though I liked free spirited hippie women, I wasn’t about drugs, and I was never a hippie man on the outside, always conservative in my appearance.

And a woman with a drug habit would have been like bad medicine for me.

Bob Boyd

Please Come to Boston

I’m listening to the song
Please Come to Boston,
one of my favorites.

Oh how I love that
song and its lyrics
partly because
originally I’m from
close to Boston.

And I like the way he
plaintively pleads with
a woman to come and
be with him in the
places he moves to.

But I’m thinking to myself
that he should quit
screwing around and just
be with her.

And if he keeps screwing
by moving to different
places that she, his
number one fan, doesn’t
want to move to, he
could rightfully lose her.

And were I him, I wouldn’t
risk losing her.

And even if I had to go
through the burning
flames of a hell
instead of nice places
like he’s going to
in the song

I’d do it
just to be with her.

Bob Boyd

i didn’t want to get to know her

i was working in a jewelry store
as a manager trainee when i
was in my early thirties
a woman came to work there
who was too beautiful
too much about her looks
too much about her clothes
i didn’t pay much attention to her
i had no interest in getting to know her

i’m not about self centered women
and too beautiful doesn’t appeal to me
in any way romantically
cute, pretty, beautiful to me
regardless of whether or not she
looks beautiful to others
works better for me
and why the hell am i
even thinking about this at 80

often women who are too beautiful
are too much about themselves
and unaffordable to most men

but then one day she went out
of her way to talk to me
i was surprised how nice she was
how self centered she wasn’t
we became great work friends
and too beautiful didn’t matter to me
I really liked her a lot
not as a potential girlfriend
she was happily married
i didn’t have romantic desires
or fantasies about her

it was just a surprising friendship
with a woman i didn’t want to know
one of the many women who
passed through my life
some too beautiful
some amazingly nice
some adorably cute
some incredibly pretty
some mean and hateful
many i was with
more than my share

too beautiful at the jewelry store
was one of the most surprising
and one of the nicest

bob boyd

Breakdown on Scary Country Road at Night

Car broke down at night on a scary, unlit country road.
Fears rose in him. Goosebumps spread over his skin.
Horror movie terrors starting plaguing his thoughts.
No way was he going to exit his car and face the fears,
Locked all the car doors, laid down to sleep on the seat.
Safer to hide from his increasing fears and imagined frights
Until he sensed something eerie and terribly monstrous.
Peeked out of the windshield, a scream in his throat,
Bigfoot, terrifying, smiled and put his hands on hood.
Engine started, purred. Bigfoot waved and vanished.

Bob Boyd

Twelfth Generation Werewolf

I come from succession of werewolves
I am of the twelfth generation
But all those generations weakened
The strength of the genetic strain
For the world’s sake and human lives
I’m grateful for the benign outcome

To the people in my country town
I’m a well-liked local pastor of
A respectable Christian church
Though I lead a double life
When the moon becomes full

On those foreboding nights
I’m a horrifying, raging werewolf
Thank God the grisly killing part
Of my cursed beastly inheritance
Has been bred completely out of me
But on full moon nights I still morph
Into that preternatural wolf beast
And run and howl through forests

When a local accidentally sees me
And nearly faints from fright
And tells the people in the town
About the terrifying sight of
The darker, moonlit side of me
I’m downgraded to being called
A mere lesser Dogman and that
Insult enrages me so I almost
Wish I could go on a werewolf
Killing spree to avenge the slight

Bob Boyd

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